What Happens at the Plaza Rating M DWP FF
by J7eternal
Summary: two years after Paris: Miranda and Andrea meet at an awards gala and sparks fly.


Miranda's fashionably-late arrival at the gala was greeted by the usual barrage of camera's flashing and reporters yelling for a comment or her name in an attempt to get a better shot. Roy knew to return in precisely 60 minutes, an interminably long time for Miranda to spend at a single function, but tonight was different. Tonight was the Black and White masquerade gala for the first annual Katherine Graham Awards for women in publishing.

Miranda had complied with the colour restrictions, choosing a vintage De Laurenta in jet black silk chiffon, the bodice sparkling with black beadwork. A simple strip of black silk organza acted as a wrap. Miranda knew all eyes in the lobby were drawn to her. She refused to wear a mask, and why bother. Everyone knew who she was, and she certainly was not going to disguise her trademark hair. Miranda walked casually through the parting crowd, nodding and sometimes even smiling at specific people whose identities were quite obvious regardless of their chosen costumes.

The actual ceremony would begin in eight minutes, giving her just enough time to make it to her seat and have a few sips of champagne. She took her seat and glanced around the Grand Ballroom. The renovations had gone well but Miranda failed to understand the need to replicate Capote's Black and White Ball. An homage to Katherine in the form of an award was one thing; she pursed her lips slightly, however, most of the people in the room hadn't been born when Truman had hosted the original. She had only read about it years after it had happened when she had been filling her young head with dreams of success in New York City .

She sipped her champagne and felt older than she usually allowed herself to. The introductory speeches were not painfully long-winded, but the slide-show retrospective on the influence and career of Katherine Graham was becoming a bit tedious. It was nothing she didn't already know. She scanned the crowd over the rim of her glass. She caught sight of a white top hat precariously tilted to the side and forward to shadow the right eye of a plain black harlequin mask. The young woman had her dark hair smoothed back but with enough volume that it seemed her hat would topple. Miranda realised she had been caught looking when a beautifully generous smile widened the other woman's shiny red lips. _Andrea!_Miranda's heart accelerated and her thoughts sped back in time.

Last spring Miki Naftali had invited her to privately view a few of the renovated Plaza suites. She had heard some people were so eager to get their hands on a piece of old New York that they had purchased the unfinished condos, sight unseen. A mistake Miranda never made. She was waiting for the elevator doors to close - glacial was not a pace she appreciated - and when they finally budged, some cretin hopped through the closing gap. The doors closed and the lift began its ascent. Miranda averted her eyes.

"Thanks, that was close! My boss would kill me if I missed this ex -" there was a gasp. Miranda took half a step closer to the wall and glanced at the moron who had clearly just realized who she is. The moron was Andrea. Miranda rolled her eyes.

"Andrea, you may find it difficult to hold your breath all the way up."

"Ohmygod! Miranda! I'm sorry, I didn't even - I was in a hurry."

"Evidently." Miranda looked her former assistant over. She had reverted to the sensible shoes but the rest of her ensemble wasn't half bad, though nowhere near Runway standards. The girl was babbling about something and had grabbed Miranda's hand. Miranda focused as she felt her face flush.

" - felt so awful for walking away, you must know it was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, Miranda. All those months of killing myself for you - then what you said to me in the car, it made me realize - Things, things that I just wasn't ready for."

While trying to pull her hand away, Miranda said, "I should think someone in your profession could do better than 'things', Andrea." Andrea blushed and floor numbers continued to blink on and off, one after the other.

"I never felt like I measured up, Miranda, I only pushed myself to get your attention."

"Measure up?"

"I think I was in love with you," they spoke at the same time.

"But you did measure up." Miranda managed to say before Andrea's words struck home. The doors opened and her hand was empty - reaching. Andrea's sad brown eyes on her - the words 'I'm sorry' filled up the space as the doors closed. Miranda's heart shuddered in her chest.

The next morning she received an email of the rough draft of Andrea's story on angry buyers who felt betrayed by Elad Properties and a single sentence: _Though it is none of my business, I thought you should know in case you were considering the Plaza._

Miranda had merely been curious, uprooting the girls would have been horrible, and besides, she loved the townhouse. She wondered if she should respond, assistant crushes were nothing new, it often helped keep them in line, but Andrea? She realized she was feeling flattered by the young woman's imagined attention. Appalled at her train of thought, she snapped herself back to attention and moved to the next message. That evening alone in the office she reopened the message and sent a response: 'Thank you for your concern Andrea - but we love the townhouse.' Then she changed 'we' to 'the girls and I' and then she added, because she had to know, 'Did you mean what you said?'

Two days later she received a reply: 'Not completely.' Andrea wasn't even in the building and somehow she was still annoying. Miranda typed quickly: 'Obliqueness is not appreciated.' and then returned to her day quickly forgetting about it. When she returned from lunch she had a new message from . Miranda leaned back in her chair for a moment and narrowed her gaze at the computer screen as if it could explain why she was feeling so ridiculously nervous. Emily walked in with a question on her lips but turned on her heel and hurried off when Miranda glanced at her.

'I said _was_- past tense - I should have used present.'

That was all. Not even a signature. Miranda stared at the words and felt her body respond. Emotions long dormant swirled through her. She thought about Andrea Sachs - the smart girl she'd taken a chance on who had struggled at first but then proved to be indispensable. Her abrupt departure in Paris still stung - it was ridiculous how she had let this style-challenged girl affect her. Miranda found her thoughts drifting to the features of Andrea's face, the curve of her generous smile and the strange desperate look that had come over her in Paris when Miranda had told her about Stephan wanting a divorce. She had looked devastated, and strangely afraid ... Miranda realized that such foolish thoughts about Andrea were the least productive way to spend her day. She pushed her curiosity and desires to the background where they belonged and focused on Runway.

Andrea was nervous sitting among the best and the brightest of New York publishing. She did her best to follow the shop-talk at her table which was furthest from the small stage. She felt nervous in her white silk tailcoat and pants. After their recent encounters, Andrea had decided to do something to get Miranda's attention now that she realized the first thing her former boss would notice was that the fact that she was wearing a knock-off, not a Name. She kept up with fashion as best she could with her busy schedule and modest pay. Lately she had been impressed with the trend towards feminine interpretations of classic menswear, which is why she had chosen to wear a nearly transparent organza vest under the tailcoat. The top hat was a bit of whimsy Doug had talked her into when she had modeled the outfit for him. She was relieved to see that much of the crowd had taken the theme of the evening to indulge in ensembles that were much more theatrical than usual for such an event; her white tuxedo was not out of place. She had arrived 15 minutes before the start of the ceremony. It was now about to begin and she hadn't seen Miranda. Barely hearing the first speaker she scanned the room for the silver haired editor. Andy could no longer deny her true feelings for her former boss. For months she had run from her desires like she had run from Paris . The night Miranda had told her that Stephen wasn't coming. Sitting opposite her was an unmasked and utterly depleted Miranda in her plain-looking grey robe, and Andrea came to the shocking understanding that she had fallen in love with her boss. With everything Miranda had said to her, the phrase that kept repeating in her mind was "You're quite fetching." Miranda's obvious pain and desolation had overwhelmed Andy. She wanted to go to her, wrap her in a hug and say 'he's a fool' - 'you're a Goddess' - ' anyone who would leave you is a complete and utter idiot.' Moreover it would not have been a friendly sisterly hug.

Andrea realised that if she ever had the chance to take Miranda in her arms she would never want to leave; that her desire to prove herself to her impossible boss had transformed into a desire _for_ her. At that moment in Paris her conflicting emotions had been too much to take and led to her foolish mistake with Christian. Andy again scanned the room, a server with a tray of champagne momentarily blocked her view towards the stage, when he maneuvered around the next table and out of the way she saw Miranda taking her seat and greeting her table in her quiet commanding way. She hadn't worn a mask, so Andrea was free to let her eyes wander her beautiful face, the line of her neck and the inviting contours of her décolletage. She loved Miranda's shoulders. Andrea glanced up and her eyes met Miranda's, a grin immediately bloomed, she couldn't help herself; Miranda had not only seen her but nodded slightly in greeting. Happiness and desire swirled through her. Miranda was looking at her - really looking, practically checking her out. Andy felt faint and took a fortifying sip of champagne. Her eyes kept returning to Miranda, whose eyes kept returning to her. As the speeches continued, Andrea's thoughts played over the details of their second chance meeting. It had changed everything she thought she knew about Miranda.

Andy and Lily had taken an introductory rollerblading course in the middle of a hot and muggy New York summer. Andy had waited until early autumn to try out her new blades in Central Park . Everything had been going quite well as she picked up her pace on a relatively empty section of pathway. She was enjoying the adrenaline rush of newfound speed and confidence when a huge dog ran out of the bushes, crossing her path and startling her. She was going too fast to use the brake pad so she tried to dodge around the dog and ended up tumbling over. White pain filled her brain as she clutched her leg which caused a new stinging when her hands hit the road rash on her calf. Someone ran by and a child let out a short scream. When Andy opened her eyes she was greeted by a vision of a silver-haired goddess outlined in bright sunlight, _God looks like Miranda_, she had thought, which made her chuckle.

"You okay?" someone asked. Andy blinked at the small crowd surrounding her.

"Andrea!" Miranda's voice cut through the confusion. Miranda Priestly - editor of Runway magazine, fashions reigning queen was kneeling on the gritty pavement with a hand on Andy's thigh.

"Stay calm, Andrea. Roy is on his way." Miranda looked down at her with real concern.

"Shouldn't we call an ambulance?" another stranger asked.

"Everything is completely under control, though more room would help." Miranda said sharply. Everyone immediately took a step back. Andy noticed one of Miranda's daughters peering over her mother's shoulder, looking quite queasy.

"She's bleeding a lot - is she going to die?" the girl asked. Miranda turned to her daughter and calmly explained.

"It looks bad but it is not serious, Caroline, go help your sister with Patricia." The girl quickly complied. "Andrea, can you stand up?" Andy sat up and soon she was leaning on her former boss, balancing on one socked foot while gingerly holding up her other leg. She turned her head to look at the beautiful woman holding her up. She had never been so close before, she could see the tiny hairs on her perfect skin, the soft lines around her eyes, the smile lines bracketing her mouth and the sculptural beauty of Miranda's nose. The scent of her was nothing like the harsh chemical overload of cheap perfume, it was just a hint of floral and musk in perfect balance. Andrea felt she might faint from desire.

"Perhaps it is better if you sit down." Miranda said. Andy did not want to let go.

"No, please. I'm okay standing." Andy looked into her luminous blues eyes and wondered if Miranda could feel the thumping of her heart.

"If you're sure." She did not look convinced. Just then the girls returned with their giant dog, Patricia. Roy appeared looking incongruous standing on the bike path in his uniform. "Roy, please assist Andrea to the car. We will be dropping the girls at home, and then taking her to the hospital."

"Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad, I - um" Miranda was looking at her, pursed lipped, nostrils white with annoyance. "Of course, to the hospital" Andy conceded and then Roy basically carried her to car. It was not the usual town car but a station wagon, well a Mercedes-Benz E-Class E 63 AMG, clearly for transporting Patricia, judging by the blanket in the back. Cassidy and Caroline fought over who would ride shotgun, while Miranda helped Andy get comfortable in the back. After helping Andy she walked around the car, got in and slid to the middle of the seat and gently lifted Andy's injured leg until it was draped across her legs. A grumpy Cassidy completed the backseat trio and loudly slammed the door. She quietly apologized in response to a sharp look from her mother. Miranda continued to support Andy's bloody leg, without getting dirty or bloody herself, while she called the nanny and chastised the girls for letting Patricia get away from them. Andy watched the older woman and began to smile. When the girls and dog were safely home, Miranda did not change her position. Instead she kept her left hand under Andy's injured calf and her right just above the knee on Andy's inner thigh.

"Is there a reason for all this grinning, Andrea?" Miranda finally said, half turning to glance at her former assistant.

"I guess I'm just enjoying seeing you again."

"Mmmm." Miranda said glancing away.

"I thought maybe this was payback for Paris." Andy tried to joke but Miranda turned to her looking very serious. Her hand suddenly hot on Andy's thigh.

"I would never wish you harm, Andrea." She looked intently into her eyes. "What must you think of me." she said glancing away again. Andy felt horrible and immediately reached out, putting her hand on Miranda's shoulder.

"Sorry, Miranda, that wasn't funny."

"Oh, was funny your intent?" She replied - clearly annoyed. Andy kept her hand in place beginning to gently squeeze. Andy had realised long before she had quit that Miranda's caustic attitude was equal parts superiority and vulnerability.

"I am sorry, Miranda. For Paris - for everything." Andy said sincerely. Miranda studied the brunette for a few long moments, her hand lightly rubbing back and forth on the younger woman's thigh. She stopped suddenly - as if just realising what she was doing. Her face flushed.

"Everything is a lot to be sorry for, Andrea." She said quietly. Andy struggled against the urge to reach out and pull her into a hug. That would never do, and besides they had arrived at the hospital.

Miranda stayed with her, holding her hand while the nurse cleaned bits of gravel from her road-rash, and the doctor set her bone and wrapped her ankle in a cast. During the whole process they barely spoke, instead their eyes traced each others' features, occasionally blushing and glancing away. The moment they were left alone, Miranda leaned down, her eyes bright and searching Andy's face, then she slowly closed the gap between them and kissed her. She pulled away looking a little shocked at her own behaviour and clearly wanting a definitive response so Andy reached up to put her hand on Miranda's neck, guiding their mouths back together. The kiss was deep but unhurried, like they had all the time in the world.

Andrea's name was called - snapping her out of her erotic memories. She stood up and made her way to the small stage where award recipients were slowly gathering. She managed to smile and nod, accepting her crystal award for 'Emerging Talent in Investigative Journalism' before lining up with the others. Miranda was given an award for 'Excellence in Magazine Editing'. She walked slowly toward the stage and graciously smiled. Her eyes held Andy's as she took her place in the line. The group posed for a few photos, then the MC announced that official ceremony was over and the fun could commence. Andrea held back so she could remove her mask and follow Miranda back down the short flight of stairs. She was rewarded by a long intense look from the older woman which sent tingles up her spine. She followed Miranda back to her table where they placed their awards side by side. Someone in a huge black feathered mask and flamboyantly ruffled dark grey suit jacket joined them - it was clearly Nigel.

"Hello my beauties, Sorry I'm late!" He said, and Miranda smiled at him.

"I didn't know you would be here Nigel!" Andrea gave him a quick hug.

"And miss a party like this!" Nigel pulled back and held Andy's hands out so he could look her up and down. "You're coming along quite nicely, Six." He smirked and Andy blushed a little. "So which one of you wants to dance with me first." He grinned. Miranda stepped in closer.

"I'm afraid, Nigel, that Andrea insisted we share the first dance." She said, sliding her hand around Andy's white silk clad bicep. Andrea was quite surprised and grinned. Nigel pursed his lips like he was assessing an ensemble, looking at the two women he smiled wickedly and grabbed their hands to join them together.

"Clearly my work here is done! Enjoy your evening darlings." He walked off, leaving Miranda and Andrea in each others' arms. They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment.

"Trust Nigel to take credit." Miranda raised an imperial eyebrow.

"Shouldn't we dance?" Andy asked. Miranda pulled her into a hug and spoke into her ear.

"I would love to dance with you, Andrea, but not here - not now." She pulled out of the embrace but took hold of Andrea's hands. "It feels so impossible." she glanced at the crowd around them.

"It doesn't have to be, Miranda." Andy was almost pleading.

"Five minutes, the Champagne bar." Miranda held her eyes looking vulnerable. Andy nodded and watched her walk away. Andrea grabbed her award and headed in the opposite direction wondering if her arousal was obvious to everyone around her.

Andy managed not to blush as she approached Miranda, who was examining her from head to toe. She handed the silver haired beauty a glass of champagne.

"It reminds me of the Gaultier gown and jacket Ines wore back in January..." Miranda stated without preamble. Andrea sat down opposite her in a matching plush wing-back chair. She took a slow sip of champagne and enjoyed Miranda's attention.

"I'm afraid it's a Chakra knockoff - Certainly can't afford the real thing."

"If you still worked for me you'd be wearing the real thing." Miranda said glancing away.

"If I still worked for you I wouldn't have this." Andy nodded at the matching crystal awards on the tiny table between them. Miranda narrowed her eyes a little and proceeded to study every nuance of fabric from Andrea's waist to her neck. Andrea's eyes widened when she realised that Miranda Priestly was checking her out.

"It's quite convincing." Miranda murmured.

"You disapprove?" Andy was feeling flirty

"My opinion matters to you?" Miranda's eyebrow arched and she pinned Andrea with her look. Andy pushed through her fear.

"Miranda, your opinion has always mattered, I'm sorry, I thought I had explained ... you're still hurt."

"Hurt?" Miranda burned with suppressed anger but her voice sounded dismissive.

"Fine, what do I know. Brush me off - 'That's all'" Andy gestured with her hand, downed her champagne and stood up. She leaned over to retrieve her award and leaned close to her former boss, speaking quietly to avoid the eavesdroppers in the growing crowd "Deny it if you want, what do I matter. Good-bye, Miranda." As Andrea stood up, Miranda grabbed her arm.

"Don't." Miranda said quietly. Andy pulled her arm free and stared down at the stunning woman who tormented her dreams and filled her waking thoughts. "Please, Andrea, don't leave." The anger that had boiled up inside Andy quickly dissipated. Miranda had said 'please' loud enough for people near-by to hear. Andy looked around and grabbed a wooden chair. She positioned it so the low back rest was pressed against the soft green upholstery of Miranda's chair. She straddled it leaning forward so her face was mere inches from Miranda's, the extra wide wing of the chair blocking the Runway Editors face from public view. She stared intently into the other woman's eyes, willing her to continue. Remarkably, Miranda relaxed enough to let her head fall to the side and she returned the younger woman's gaze for several moments.

"Alright, Andrea - hurt," She paused. Andrea placed her heavy crystal award back on the table and leaned closer to the wing letting her right hand slip under the backrest to brush her fingertips over the back of Miranda's left hand. Miranda shifted her gaze to their hands delicately and tentatively exploring. She set her jaw fighting back her emotions, "and betrayed." Andrea went completely still, "because you mattered to me Andrea - why . . ." she shook her head as though confused. Only once before had Andrea seen such raw emotion from Miranda, she felt like her own insides were trying to twist their way out.

"Please tell me you know why." Andy whispered desperately needing to hear the words. Miranda blinked back tears and straightened up, "Of course," she said quietly. "Andrea, I cannot continue this here. Roy will arrive shortly."

"Miranda?" Andy did not want their time together to be over so quickly.

"I would like us to talk a little longer."

"Okay . . . should I meet you out front? Or around the corner by the fountain?"

"Is subterfuge really necessary?" Miranda said in a softer version of her 'I'm surrounded by idiots' voice.

"I just thought . . ."

"If you're embarrassed to be seen leaving with me." Only the tiny hint of a smile betrayed her teasing.

"You're only the most amazing woman in the building, Miranda, and I could never ever be embarrassed to be seen with you." Andy grinned and Miranda breathed in her delightful beauty. That smile made her feel refreshed, made her doubts disappear, made her want to take risks. She knew she was smiling too. She took another sip of champagne and brushed a finger over her cheekbones, dispelling the naked emotion from her public mask.

"I am more than ready to go when you are Miranda." Andy spoke quietly her head tilted, her eyes free of anger. Miranda leaned forward and placed her glass on the table then leaned back trailing her free hand over Andrea's knee. Pressing harder, she spread her fingers and slid them up Andrea's thigh. The young woman gasped and her face flushed with desire.

"You must know, Andrea, I haven't any idea what I'm doing." Their eyes met.

"Neither do I but I don't want to stop!"

"Good." Miranda said quietly.

In the car, Roy greeted Andy with a smile and a friendly hello. He didn't ask if he should drop Andy off. Miranda gently placed her warm hand over top of Andy's; gradually their fingers intertwined as they drove in silence, looking out at the city. Roy delivered them safely to the townhouse and Miranda excused him for the night. Andrea felt completely overwhelmed with desire as they stepped into the dark foyer of Miranda's home.

"The girls are at their fathers." Miranda stated quietly. Andrea took Miranda's award from her and placed it with hers on the credenza. She quickly doffed the top hat as well. She turned back and slid her fingers up Miranda's arms.

"You are absolutely stunning, Miranda." She said, stepping even closer.

"Thank you. You look even more fetching than usual tonight." Miranda said, unbuttoning the single button holding Andy's white tailcoat closed. She heard Andy's breath catch.

"Miranda," Andy said with a sigh, "remember the first time you told me I was fetching? - in Paris?" Miranda nodded in response as she reached inside the jacket to discover that Andrea was wearing nothing but a sheer vest and cumber bun. She spread her hands over the warm flesh of Andrea's lower back and was rewarded with another gasp and a shiver.

"That was when I knew I had fallen in love with you." Andy said.

"Andrea," Miranda whispered as she leaned close to kiss her; intently like the first time in the hospital, "thankyou for coming back to me." They kissed again, making it last for a long time. "I would love to see you in a Chanel tuxedo gown. I very much like you in Chanel."

"Do you?" Andy asked, feeling relaxed and confident now that she held Miranda in her arms.

"Oh yes, Andrea," Andy's heart still thrilled at the way Miranda said her name. "The first time I saw you in those boots," she paused and felt her face warm from blushing, "I think that's when I realized I wanted you to be more than just another office minion." Andy silently took in this information and let it add to the heat blooming inside her.

"I'm not sure I could have dipped you in a gown - the pants were necessary." She said.

"You chose your attire based on the unlikely event of dancing with me?" Miranda smiled.

"Yes." Andy grinned.

"Well - I'm honoured, and I will thoroughly enjoy removing it - but let's go upstairs darling - I want you in the light."

Author note: One of the Lovelies from the Faction suggested an epilogue with the "good parts"

So I am working on it!


End file.
